


Hearing the Song in Your Laughter

by Linzanity



Series: Sink or Swim [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik is Afraid of Toasters, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, My First Fanfic, No Beach Divorce, Poor Charles, Post-Cuba, Protective Erik, Rating May Change, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linzanity/pseuds/Linzanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-Cuba fix-it fic in which Erik doesn't leave and Charles isn't completely paralyzed. Some angst and love and happy endings mixed into a fluffy ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearing the Song in Your Laughter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts), [Rina9294](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/gifts), [Orithain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/gifts), [spaceAltie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceAltie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All the little things again...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2607986) by [spaceAltie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceAltie/pseuds/spaceAltie). 
  * Inspired by [You Make Me Drop Things (Like All The Plans I Had Made For A Life Without You)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/683183) by [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity). 
  * Inspired by [Bored in Bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/352665) by [Orithain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/pseuds/Orithain), [Rina9294](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294). 



> Title from Tyrone Wells' song "Sink or Swim."
> 
> This is my first time posting, and I hope you like it!
> 
> These are slices of life that I've stitched together. The first scene is about a week after Cuba. The rest are a few months later so the reader can decide whether those later snippets occur over a period of time or during the same day.

Lazy, late morning shafts of light streamed in through the bay windows, tickling Charles awake – or at least into that transition state between asleep and awake – with warmth while the soft sounds of classical guitar and celestial voices swum around his head. Grinning at his mid-morning comfort, he stretched his arms above his head and shifted from his back to his right side against dark maroon satin bed sheets. “Oy!” he exclaimed in a soft whisper as his left knee collided with cold unyielding metal, making his eyelids flicker open. _Oh bugger_ , he thought to himself as he remembered that he was lying, not in his gargantuan king-sized bed next to his best friend, but alone in his rented hospital bed with the guard rails pulled up on either side.

Across the room, in the slightly uncomfortable, yet very regally upholstered arm chair, Erik glanced up briefly to check on the elegant mutant shifting in his sleep before looking back down at the medical reports he’d been trying to decipher over the past few days. His gaze was quickly startled back to the bed by the barely audible exhale of pain from the man across the room followed by his louder telepathic projection of annoyance. With no recollection of dropping the files from his lap and crossing the room, Erik was suddenly squatting on his heels at the side of the specially tailored bed to be eye level with his better half.

“Charles, are you alright?! Can you open your eyes… look at me?” When no speedy response was given, Erik let out a panicked, “Charles!!”

“I’m fine!” the telepath snapped, glaring at Erik with irritation. Seeing the mixed look of fear and worry and love in his partner’s forest green eyes, Charles instantly regretted his sour tone and softened his expression. “Look, I’m sorry. I just…I only bumped my knee. It’s okay. No permanent damage done.” That last was delivered with a humored lilt that had been rare since the accident.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik muttered, while internally berating himself. He was the one, after all, to fashion the gilded rails designed to keep Charles from rolling out of bed and further injuring his spine. When the rental cot was delivered the day prior Erik had glared at it antagonistically and stalked off, leaving Charles sitting in his chair, feeling confused and abandoned. Two hours later, Erik had returned with his contribution: two beautifully designed railings made out of gold and copper scraps. He’d ripped off the standard-issue plastic side-pieces and welded his creations into the frame as a miniscule apology for damaging Charles’ skeleton in the first place. He knew that there was no way to properly redress the wrongs done to his lover, but he intended to spend the rest of his life trying – that is, if Charles would allow him to stay.

_Of course I want you to stay._ In the present, Charles had been following Erik’s train of thought and reached out for Erik’s hand. When their fingers were intertwined he asked, “Can you change the tape to something instrumental? I want to catch up on my novel this morning.” Erik leaned forward to faintly kiss Charles’ forehead when a surprisingly strong hand maneuvered him down to Charles’ lips. Erik hesitantly acquiesced, treating his beloved like porcelain, then abruptly pulled away. His powers felt out for the barely detectable layer of magnetic coating around the polyester plastic film coiled inside the cassette, removed the cassette from the player, and replaced it with a mixed tape of nature sounds.

Easing out of his squatted stance and telekinetically raising the top half of the hospital bed so his lover could partially sit up, Erik picked _The Once and Future King_ up off the floor, where it had fallen during the telepath’s restless stirring the night before, and placed it on Charles’ lap. He walked back to his seat reluctantly, stooping to retrieve the discharge papers he had cast aside, and continued reading to the tune of babbling brooks.

*  
*

Erik’s eyes shot up at the sound of significant shifting atop the mattress and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Moving to my wheelchair. Nature is calling.”

Erik briefly considered pointing out that this is why Charles should use the bed pan the doctors had given him but knew it was an argument he wasn’t going to win.

_Smart man_ , the telepath praised sarcastically.

“At least let me help,” Erik ordered as he crossed the room in three lengthy strides and bent over to pick up Charles. He deposited his weightless, breakable partner into the chair and pushed him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. Crossing his arms across his chest, Erik leaned against the vanity counter and watched Charles patiently.

“Do you mind?” came Charles’ small voice.

“Not at all. Go ahead.” Erik shifted his torso away from Charles and made a show of covering his eyes with his forearm.

“No, I mean… Could you leave the room? Give me some privacy?”

“But what if you fall?” Erik protested. “You could hit your head, and then you’d have a concussion on top of paralysis. Plus I wouldn’t be here to help you back up.”

Charles gritted his teeth hard and repeated to himself, _He’s just being protective._ “Erik,” he began with a saccharine tone at odds with the glower in his eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of relieving myself on my own. In fact, I insist on it.”

“Fine. If you fall, don’t complain to me.” Annoyed that Charles wouldn’t let him assist, Erik departed the bathroom and bedroom, slamming both doors shut, then thudded down the stairs to report his patient’s uncooperative behaviour to Dr. Henry McCoy.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Charles reminded himself that Erik was scared to death and only trying to help, not out of guilt but out of love. Well, maybe a little bit of guilt.

*  
*

Turning at the sound of the lab door flying open, Hank observed the visibly annoyed resident metal bender. “I assume something is wrong, Erik?” he managed not to squeak out in fear.

“Charles won’t let me help him,” Erik grumped, slumping onto one of the lab stools next to the microscopes. He picked up a piece of graphing paper and started to tear it to shreds, heedless of the mess he was creating around the expensive equipment.

“That’s not like Charles. What were you trying to help him with?” Hank asked, removing his rubber gloves and dropping them into the toxic waste bin.

“He got up because he needed to go to the bathroom, but he’s really weak, and I was worried that he’d fall over, but he wouldn’t let me help him!”

Closing the fume hood, Hank turned around to study the disgruntled man in front of him. “Help him… in the bathroom?” At Erik’s terse nod, he shook his head, trying not to appear flustered. “Um… Well, Erik… would you appreciate it if anyone tried to help you in the bathroom?” Hank attempted to speak with a voice of reason, pretending that they were old friends who could have an unabashed conversation about their favorite telepath’s bodily functions.

Ignoring the question, Erik blurted, “It’s not like I haven’t seen that part of him” (at the mention of his mentor’s relationship with Erik, Hank blushed a fierce crimson red) “and if he fell, he could hurt himself.”

“I’m sure he understands you have the best intentions,” Hank mumbled in embarrassment. “Charles is a self-sufficient man and he’s not used to being handicapped. Just stay close, but don’t smother him.”

*  
*

Charles Francis Xavier had a way of strong-arming Erik Lehnsherr. One rainy morning, Erik found himself pushing a wheelchair-bound beauty down the aisles of the grocers in a hunt for “meals that don’t taste like you stole them from the hospital cafe.” It was mostly an excuse for Charles to wear one of his better sweaters and to get out of the mansion. He had become stir crazy with the same scenery and same bathrobe.

After each ingredient collected in Hills Supermarket, Charles tried to pull his metallokinetic into a kiss. Erik was at odds. He wanted to devour Charles’ mouth at every moment of every day; however, he knew Charles must be acting extra affectionate in order to prove his stamina or ability to please Erik while in a chair. Erik thought that was ridiculous; Charles had nothing to prove. Erik didn’t need physical contact to continue loving him. So, he kept resisting the temptation. Luckily, ten minutes in, the telepath had become exhausted.

“Could you set me by the window there with the other seated gentleman? I need to recuperate for a moment if you don’t mind finding the rest without me. Here is Hank’s list.”

Erik took the overly creased paper, studying where Charles’ thumb had worn the folds into a soft sheet, wishing for once that he could read his best friend’s mind. He wheeled Charles next to an older handicapped man, and disappeared into the back of the store, leaving the professor next to a grumpy smoker who was eying them both. He tried to shop as quickly as he could but it was hard to maneuver among all the senior citizens searching for discounts. He checked out and walked back towards the window where Charles had turned his whole body towards the other man and had engaged him in animated conversation.

“…because of the current, the right leg became useless after the left was shot in Normandy. I see you also can’t move your lower limbs,” the elder was inquiring.

Charles became silent and Erik stilled behind him, so as not to interrupt him.

Charles shifted uncomfortably and spoke four words that mirrored Erik’s constant hauntings.

“It was friendly fire.”

“Wow, the worst kind, man.”

*  
*

_Why won’t he look at me?_ Charles was in pain. Not physical pain, but the very real heartache that comes with loss. He was mourning the loss of the relationship he and Erik once had, before Cuba, before the wheelchair, before the nightmares. He was currently seated in the shower chair, studying Erik’s look of concentration as he stood before him washing Charles’ long, unruly hair.

Three months had passed since Charles’ discharge from the hospital. They had started this routine after his first shower – with Hank leaning through the curtains to hold the adjustable shower head – proved ineffective and embarrassing, to say the least. Erik kneaded shampoo into Charles’ hair every other night and very carefully did not let his eyes wander below shoulder level, out of respect for Charles’ condition.

Charles, however, found himself sitting in front of a quite naked mutant every two days, his eyes level with Erik’s well-endowed figure. He and his member definitely took notice. Which made it sting even worse when Erik wouldn’t even acknowledge Charles’ growing (rather literally) discomfort. _Ha, no relief for the cripple. Does he not find me attractive anymore? Of course he doesn’t… why would he? This is my fault, he probably feels remorseful and that’s the only reason he’s staying. Because he feels like he has to. He doesn’t even want to be here. God, I’m such an idiot…_

“Charles, _Liebling_ , you’re projecting,” Erik whispered, dropping to his haunches and faltered before giving a soft peck to the paraplegic’s cheek. “I want to be here,” he mumbled into Charles’ ear.

Cautiously, nervously, the telepath predicted, “But you’ll never want to be with me _that_ way again,” voice catching on the emphasis as the tears began to roll down.

“You know that’s not true,” Erik denied, swiping his thumbs across freckled cheeks.

“Then why…hic…w-why won’t you…hic…look at me…like you use-used to?” Charles was mortified to find that he was hyperventilating, naked in the shower, face red in front of Erik. He had never before felt so vulnerable and out of control.

“Oh, Charles. Shh shh shh,” Erik cooed as he gathered Charles into his arms and took his place on the shower chair. With Charles cradled in his lap, Erik stroked his back gently, allowing the warm water to cascade and envelop them.

He sprinkled kisses all over his lover’s shoulders. He kneaded conditioner through both of their heads. He explored each crevice of the mutant’s ribs with soap and his long fingers. Meanwhile, Charles remained motionless, sniffling against Erik’s chest.

“Of course I still want you like…like that,” unable to articulate with words, Erik’s mind focused on an image of the two of them during their first night together. “I am still a man, after all. I just didn’t feel that it would be fair to push you or try to seduce you...” Again, Erik projected the feeling of doubt he’d been harboring since the accident whenever Charles tried to initiate something – he figured Charles was only trying to please him and that Charles himself didn’t want to be intimate. “…Especially after what I’ve already done to you.” The image that followed was Charles screaming in agony and tumbling to the sand, Erik’s heart stopping in the process.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Charles whispered, shifting his nose from Erik’s pectoral muscle to the slot by Erik’s own, then paused. Erik leaned forward the extra centimeter and instigated a kiss for the first time in months. A painful burst of laughter at his immediate relief was startled out of Charles’ still heaving chest, and he spilled his joy into Erik’s mind.

Chuckling and keeping a tight grip on his beautiful, irreplaceable treasure, Erik stood, telekinetically turned off the faucet, and wrapped them both in fluffy towels before carrying Charles back to his hospital bed.

“No. _Our_ bed,” Charles asserted, tears drying, approaching a normal breathing pattern again.

“But what if you roll too close to the edge? You could fall out.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to hold me tight all night to prevent that from happening, won’t you?”

“I like where your mind is at, mind-reader,” Erik chuckled and walked them to the bed that had been shoved with negligence into the far corner by the wardrobe, unused and lonely over the past quarter.

*  
*

Erik didn’t have a complete photographic memory like Charles, but he did have an eidetic memory of everything pertaining to his favorite telepath. He could list every location of Charles many freckles – as well as a memory he associated with each freckle – at the drop of a hat. These were his thoughts as they lay together in post-coital bliss, still rediscovering one another, once again in their comfy bed.

_Oh, really? Do tell_ , Charles’ mind had been intimately wrapped around his own all evening, beginning with the kiss in the shower, and he followed Erik’s thoughts religiously.

_Challenge accepted_ , Erik thought as he pecked Charles quickly on the cheek. “This one,” he said, gently rubbing a freckle on the back of Charles’ right hand, “reminds me of the night we first met, when you saved me from drowning.” His mind helpfully displayed an image of Erik’s shock at an arm coming around his chest from behind, before he had even seen Charles’ face.

“This one,” he continued, stroking his thumb across the bow of Charles’ lips, “is from our first kiss.”

“I remember that!” Charles exclaimed enthusiastically. “It went something like this.” He demonstrated by kissing to the right of Erik’s mouth, then on the left corner of it, and then hit his target with slightly too much force.

“Don’t make fun of me! I was nervous!”

_You still missed._

Grumbling, Erik pointed to his lover’s temple and retorted, “This one is from the time when you walked in on me changing in the guest bedroom, then hit your head on the doorframe in your hurry to escape.”

Charles blushed and shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“This is from our first night together,” Erik whispered, pulling back the covers and kissing his way down Charles naked stomach before arriving at a cluster of starburst freckles on his left hip.

“Erik…” Charles inhaled like a prayer. _God, I’ve missed your sounds_ , came the reply.

Then, a very pregnant pause.

The room stood still.

The sheets silently slipped off the bed from where they’d been abandoned before.

Both men steeled themselves for a moment preceded by a romantic tension. 

“And, and this one,” Erik pulled his head up to search Charles’ eyes carefully, watching for any sign of rejection. Finding none, Erik rested his hand over his lover’s heart, “…is from the moment I asked you to be mine forever.”

*  
*

Erik had been tracking the movement of Charles’ ring all day, warming it at random intervals to let Charles know he loved him. So when the simple silver band took a plummet diagonally to the floor, Erik knew right away. He tore down three flights of stairs and tumbled across the kitchen just in time to see Charles pulling his head out of the lower pantry. “I was just looking for the peanut butter…”

Erik skidded the last few feet on his knees and gathered Charles into his arms. “What were you thinking? You shouldn’t lean out of your chair. I could have helped you. God, I love you so much. I can’t lose you again. You mean the world to me.” Erik was babbling affirmations and rocking them back and forth while Charles continued contemplating the peanut butter’s likely location. The world went silent for a moment while Erik searched his lover’s eyes for any sign of damage, finding only trust.

And that’s when it happened.

The toaster went off.

Within half a second, Erik cast his powers about wildly searching for a weapon, coming up with the toaster itself. Which he promptly crushed. Resulting in a short burst of flames.

Charles surged forward in laughter. “You couldn’t tell that the toaster was on?! What kind of metal bender are you?” he teased.

Erik growled. He had been so focused on Charles, he had blocked out everything else in the room while inspecting for injuries. He vowed never to completely ignore surroundings again. What if the toaster had been an assassin sent to finish Charles?

“An assassin? Really?” Charles continued to guffaw at Erik’s preposterous ideas. He looked at the crushed appliance and the scorched underside of the kitchen cabinets, burned during the explosion. “My toast!” he whined between snickers.

“I’ll replace that,” Erik said absently while watching his fiancé’s giggling fit. His heart _ached_ , he loved Charles so much. He would dramatically destroy every appliance in the mansion to keep those blue eyes smiling.

“That won’t be necessary, dear,” Charles replied breathlessly. “I only need you to tell me you love me every night.”

And Erik did. For as long as they lived.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me comments and let me know what you think! I wrote this in January 2015 but was hesitant to post because I worry and pick over every word. I believe diction can make or break a piece. Lots of love to luninosity for unknowingly inspiring me to write.
> 
> Grammatical, spelling, and story errors embarrass me. Please let me know if you find any so I can fix them right away!
> 
> XOXO  
> ~ Linzanity
> 
> P.S. Check out my new tumblr: [linzanitee.tumblr.com](http://linzanitee.tumblr.com/)


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